


See The Light

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Trash Ship [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, F/M, Piano Sex, Rough Sex, Trash Ship, Voice Kink, blame dave, request, sorry ella fitzgerald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things she didn't know the mercenary was capable of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See The Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFamousFireLadyM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFamousFireLadyM/gifts).



“I miss jazz clubs and bars,” Nora commented as she scuffed her foot along the old stage. Some abandoned corner of Boston, thick with dust, light just about streaming through the filthy windows. Upturned bar stools were strewn over the wooden floor, a pool table down the centre on moth-eaten carpets. There was an old grand piano near the stage. Her companion paced behind her towards the instrument.

“This is a music hall or something, isn’t it?” he pointed out.

“I miss those too,” she added. “God, live music was such a gift. We just don’t have time for it these days. Sometimes I’m lucky to get near Goodneighbour long enough to get a drink in the Third Rail and ask Magnolia to sing.”

“Spend less time being General,” he said calmly.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” she muttered.

She heard the bang of the piano lid being lifted as she poked through a cupboard, and then a small ‘huh’ as the mercenary looked the old keyboard.

“You ever learn to play?” he asked, the old stool creaking beneath his weight as Nora found a roll of duct tape and stashed it into her bag.

“No,” she replied.

The sound of random notes filled the air, Kellogg’s muttering an accompaniment to the vaguely tuneful noise. She chuckled, scooping out a box of snack cakes and a bottle of whiskey.

“I don’t think it’s been tuned in a very long time,” she told him, hopping over the bar counter to snatch a bottle of wine from an upper shelf.

“Not bad for 200 years,” he informed her, poking the middle C. She raised her eyebrows.

“Are you telling me you know that from experience?” she asked. He rolled his eyes, and she turned back to the cupboard, finding a small bottle of antiseptic amongst the empty wine bottles.

The music started again.

Nora nearly hit her head on the wood as she pulled herself up, staring at him in surprise over the bar at the song he’d begun to play.

“That’s Ella Fitzgerald,” she began, amazed. His eyes raised from the keys, and he shrugged.

“Uhuh.”

“You know how to play the piano.”

“Pretty sure that’s what I’m _doing_ , pinup,” he said calmly.

“No, you…you _know_ how to play the piano.”

“You sound excited,” he said, confused, still playing, the soft music still filling the air.

“I thought it was one of those things that got lost,” she admitted. “Like ballet dancing, and due process, and working showers.”

“I used to go to school,” Kellogg said after a while. “Learned how to play there.”

“Next thing you’ll be telling me you have a working guitar.”

“There are at least two songs that put me off ever wanting to touch one of those.”

The music looped back to the beginning of the song, and he played the opening a few times. Nora watched him, intrigued. He actually looked quite peaceful, sitting on the piano stool like that.

 _“I never cared much for moonlit skies_  
_I never wink back at fireflies_  
_But now that the stars are in your eyes_  
_I'm beginning to see the light.”_

Her mouth dropped open, and heat coiled between her thighs, fingers pressing against the bar. His voice was deep, rasping, purring around the notes and sending tingles through her body. She watched his mouth form around the words and shivered, biting her lip.

He sang.

The man sang.

This was ridiculous.

 _“I never went in for afterglow_  
_Or candlelight on the mistletoe_  
_But now when you turn the lamp down low_  
_I'm beginning to see the light.”_

She moved around the bar, watching his fingers dance across the keys and clenched her thighs together. God, he was so right. She was ridiculously easy to get going and it showed. He was just singing, just playing the piano, but the sound of his voice was striking perfectly in her brain to slowly arouse her.

 _“Used to ramble through the park_  
_Shadowboxing in the dark_  
_Then you came and caused a spark_  
_That's a four-alarm fire now.”_

He seemed to be completely ignoring her, music pulling him out of his surroundings. She wondered what he was thinking, and bit her lip again.

Should she…?

 _“I never made love by lantern-shine_  
_I never saw rainbows in my wine_  
_But now that your lips are burning mine_  
_I'm beginning to see the light.”_

It was his turn for his head to snap up as she drifted over, singing the last verse with him. That familiar well of lyrical bravado she got from performing pushed a sway into her hips as she went to the mercenary. He faltered, briefly, and her lips tugged into a smile, hips resting against the piano as the song ended. He watched her for a few moments as the notes died away, and her head tilted, one brow raising.

“You sing,” he began.

“So do you,” she murmured. “Musical talent isn’t what I expected of you.”

“I should’ve expected yours though,” he pointed out. “Apparently, the General can do everything.”

“I can’t play the piano,” she retorted.

“That’s fair.”

She looked down at him and watching his fingers tighten around the lid of the piano.

“You okay?” she asked softly. The stool slid back as he stood abruptly, and the lid slammed down. “Conrad-”

“You know if you’d told me you were a singer, I would’ve had time to be prepared for it,” he told her calmly. “But you really hit me with that one, I gotta admit. Don’t get me wrong, I like the surprise.”

He reached out, hands grabbing her waist, and yanked her over, his body meeting hers, and Nora’s eyes widened at the feeling of the hardness pressing into her thigh.

“Look who else is easy to get going,” she breathed, the vestiges of musical confidence still ringing in her. His eyes widened.

“You’re cocky,” he told her, sliding his fingers down her thighs to the tops of her long boots. “And no blush yet.”

Her hands curled into the strap across his chest.

“Don’t pout,” she murmured. “You’ve got plenty of ways of making my face red.”

The mercenary gripped her ass, hauling her onto the piano and pressing her down against it, his body anchoring her as the thick, hard cock beneath his trousers pulsed against her suit-covered sex, the tip perched against her clit. He ground his hips and Nora’s breath stopped briefly, moaning when his fingers grasped her zip and pulled it down to her navel, his body heat stroking her bare belly as he tugged it down her body. One hand lifted her hips to expose her thighs, and then she was rolling onto her front, her white underwear falling down her hips as he grasped handfuls of her ass and squeezed gently. She gave him a short gasp and a chuckle blended into one soft, husky mix, the clack of belt buckle and the rasp of leather meeting her ears. He unzipped himself, and pushed his trousers to his thighs, gripping her ass with one hand as the other pressed his hot cock against her slit.

“Should I be concerned by the lack of foreplay?” she found herself saying. _Holy shit_. She needed to sing more.

His hand dropped and slid between her legs, fingers stroking over her bud. She arched, teeth between her lip muffling the moan she let out, her body pushing against his as the tip of his length spread her open.

“I’m not sure which one I like more, your confidence or your shyness,” he growled, sliding into her. Nora’s fingers scratched at the old piano, her lips parting.

“You can have both,” she gasped, rocking her hips. He moaned into her ear, his hand tightening around her waist.

“I intend to,” he promised, and then he was fucking her.

Nora pressed back against him with shivers of pleasure at the sensation of his cock gliding over her walls. His hips worked into hers as he grasped her breasts, the butter soft gloves stroking her nipples into stiff peaks as heat flushed her body.

“You couldn’t wait?” she laughed, a broken noise interspersed with choppy little gasps of need. “You usually get me off at least once.”

“Less of the smart mouth, pinup,” he breathed, nipping her neck as the rough jacket and pauldron strap rubbed against her bare back. “You wanna come that badly?”

“Or maybe you’re just being selfish,” she whispered, squeezing him tightly. A choked growl left him.

“I am going to make you forget your own fucking _name_ ,” he informed her roughly.

“Oh god,” she hissed, quivering as his fingers returned to her nub and began to stroke. He sucked on her neck, promisingly hard enough to leave a welt in his wake as his teeth pressed to her flesh. “Oh god, _yes…”_

His fingers circled the little bud until her thighs tensed, tongue drawing across her shoulder, lips scratching a kiss to the back of her neck as Nora moaned softly, desperate scratches drawn into the woodwork below her hands with each hard thrust into her.

“When your bravado fades, pinup, you’re still gonna be here beneath me, getting fucked,” he rasped, kissing her skin. His hips canted. “Crying out.” He pressed his fingers a little firmer. “Coming hard.”

Nora felt her orgasm growing, coiling and tense between her legs as the mercenary above her groaned. For a few moments one hand left her, and then his glove dropped onto the piano beside her, and his nails were skimming down her back with the right amount of pressure to get her absolutely mewling in pleasure.

“You,” she whined, “are going to fucking _kill_ me.”

“Yeah, but what a way to go, pinup,” he chuckled.

“Shit,” she whimpered as his hand grasped her breast and played with the sensitive tip, her legs tensing and shuddering as the slick, soaked noises of his cock in her reached her ears.

“Didn’t need to get you off, did I?” he growled into her skin, teasing and stroking, his lover writhing with each touch. “You were wet the moment I started to sing.”

“Yes!” she confessed, his lips stroking over her throat.

“And you…you opened your damn mouth and the sound…nobody’s sung like that in years, and fuck, not to me,” he admitted breathlessly.

“I got you good,” she laughed.

“Yeah,” he snarled, and bit her hard again. Oh, fuck. She was right on the edge, seconds from coming. “Now, I’m gonna get you off. Come for me, pinup, let me hear you fucking _sing_.”

The General came. Her voice echoed through the empty hall, the walls playing her own scream of pleasure back to her softer and gentler. She was way too loud now, her moans wild and uncertain, high-pitched as Kellogg kept fucking her, seeking his own end, his enhancements making him almost a blur of hard and fast thrusts until she was whimpering, squeezing him tightly.

The mercenary groaned at the sound of her cries, and twitched, coming deep inside her as he finally slowed his body, releasing the soft curves he’d held so tightly in favour of bracing against the table, panting hard into the quivering muscles across her back.

“Nice,” he managed.

“Just nice?” she whispered, gasping for air. A hand dropped to her thigh and traced patterns into the over sensitised flesh. She quivered.

“Nice,” he repeated. “Next time, I’ll get you to sing with my head between your legs.”

Her eyes widened. A blush stole across her face.

“That’s better.”


End file.
